


in a galaxy far, far away

by livingtheobsessedlife



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, One Shot Collection, Romance, unrelated one-shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-04-22 03:44:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14300046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingtheobsessedlife/pseuds/livingtheobsessedlife
Summary: there may not be dogs or bras in space, but from time to time there is romance of some sort or another





	1. never trust a wookie with your love life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Chewbacca conspire to tell Ben's parents about his girlfriend, and well, it doesn't exactly end well - - rey/ben au where ben never turned to the dark side

“Uncle Chewie?” Ben piped up, “I need your help.”

Chewie did his best to roar reassuringly (though, really all Shyriiwook roars were intimidating as hell), gesturing to a quiet spot for the anxious teen to sit and let out his problems. 

Han and Leia were off planning a mission in command for the upcoming rebellion, so it was only Ben and his hirsute uncle left on the ship. 

“There’s this girl. Her name is Rey,” Ben started, picking at a loose thread at the hem of his sleeve, “And we’ve gotten to the point in our relationship where I think we’re ready to introduce each other to the parents, y’know. Well… she doesn’t really have parents, so it’s really just her meeting mine. And ya’see the only problem is that, well, the Solos are notorious for being the most overprotective parents in the galaxy. That’s why I always keep my relationships a secret. I was wondering if you could possibly… warm them up to the idea of me dating?”

Chewie’s roar was the rough Shyriiwook translation of a chuckled, “ _I’ve got this handled._ ”

Ben smiled, “Thanks, Uncle Chew,” And gave the wookie a one-armed hug as he got up, “I knew I could count on you,”

Well, it turned out that wookies weren't the ideal family members to trust with important missions pertaining to your love life. This was evident in the way that less than a week after Chewie and Ben’s secret meeting on the Falcon, Ben’s parents were calling him into their quarters with that grave tone of voice that inevitably foreshadowed their trademark over-protectiveness. 

Leia smiled, the living picture of motherly love, gesturing serenely to a hot drink beside an empty chair across the room like a beautiful witch luring a young boy into her trap, “We wanted to talk to you, Ben,”

Han had already started pacing, gave a strange half-salute to his son as he entered, “Hey, kid,”

“What’s up?” Ben said, trying to sound calm.

“Y’know, Chewbacca talked to us, and he’s worried about you,” Leia pushed the warm drink closer to Ben, as if it was the international symbol of well-meaning and good intentions. 

Oh no, not a great sign. Ben tried not to panic. _Did Chewie screw up? Should he not have trusted his uncle to handle it?_

“Oh, Yeah? Why’s that?” Ben squirmed in his seat.

“Well, you’re a teenager,” Han halted his pacing, tapped his foot instead, “And teenagers go on dates and… be teenagers, and we-“

“We just want to make sure you know that you can be a normal teenager with us, Ben.” 

Oh, so maybe Chewie didn’t screw up after all.

“So… you’re okay with it?”

“Son, we’ll support you no matter, you know that,”

Ben smiled, “Thanks, Dad, I, um, I just wanted to say-“

“It’s okay, honey, you don’t have to say anything. Actually, to show our support, we set you up.”

“Wait, what?”

“On a date!” Leia continued excitedly, warmly squeezing Ben’s hand, “My assistant has a son who we think you would fit with just fine with.”

“Her _son_?”

“It’s okay, we thought about it being weird, what with his mom working for me, but it’s okay, we all talked it out, and nobody else has a problem with it,”

“That’s not what-“

“It’s okay, Ben. You don’t have to pretend with us. We love you no matter what. You don’t have to be afraid to tell us that you like men. We love you.”

Ben started to argue and dispute the accusation, “You think that I’m-“ But he stopped, because his mom just looked so proud and his dad stood lovingly over her and they just looked so picturesque and heroic like they had saved and protected him from every ounce of his teenage doubt just like they had saved the rest of the galaxy and- _dammit_. Ben didn’t want to destroy that. 

It wasn’t that Ben had any problem with the accusation of being gay, in fact he had had a brief tryst with one of the guys down in maintenance (his parents would die if they ever found out about Armitage the engineer- well, Han would probably smirk proudly at his son, just a little bit, but he’d grimace at the debauchery of it all to Ben’s mother if she addressed it), but it wasn’t what he had been trying to tell them, not at all. Ben just wanted to tell his parents that he had a girlfriend that he loved and wanted to share with them. 

Ben forced a smile, “Okay, I’ll go on your date,” 

He didn’t want to break his parents’ hearts. They just looked so proud to have taken a stand in their child’s “struggling” love life. 

“Good. We hope you have a great time, son.” Leia smiled, patting Ben lovingly on the shoulder, “His name is Poe. We were told to tell you to meet him in the cafeteria tomorrow for dinner.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Ben said, pressing a kiss to Leia’s cheek, “Good night, Dad.”

Ben had to go explain to his girlfriend why he had to cancel their date tomorrow for a date with another man. And then he had an uncle to yell at. 

The date turned out to be just as bad as Ben expected. 

Poe was the righteous, head-in-the-clouds, rebellion-lover that Ben never really understood. He praised Ben’s parents for their heroics in the first rebellion. Poe wanted to be a pilot. Ben just wanted to read books. When Ben tried to explain his studies, Poe told him that history had always been boring to him. 

After they ate in the boisterous cantine, where it was difficult to hold a conversation over the antics of all the groups, they walked outside of base for awhile, following the wall in the darkness. 

Poe liked to name the stars and constellations and wonder aloud what was happening beyond the atmosphere above their heads. He never seemed to run out of things to say. Ben didn’t mind listening to him. He would’ve preferred to be back in his room, talking to Rey about their futures and their pasts, but Ben wasn’t one to be rude, so he just listened and waited for the whole ordeal to be over. 

The pair made a complete circle around the base, finding themselves right back where they started. Poe kicked at the dirt and grinned, “I had a nice time,”

 _Seriously?_ Ben forced another smile, “I’m glad. Good night, Poe.”

Ben got out of there as soon as he could. When he told Rey all the horrific details of the date, she laughed until she cried and Ben’s face turned bright red in embarrassment until it melted away and he laughed, too. 

He wrapped an arm around her, “I’m glad I’m with you and not some pilot in love with my parents.”

“I’m glad you are, too.” Rey said into his chest. He could feel the warmth of her smile without seeing it, and he kissed the top of her head as they fell asleep on top of his bed, without even the covers for the extra warmth that the rebel base lacked, only each other. 

Ben woke up with a start the next morning. His head spun with the quickness of it all. Rey whipped forward with him, just as dizzied. 

There, in front of them, was Ben’s mother looking harried and shocked, “Benjamin Solo-Organa, what is this?”

“What is-,” _Oh_. As she woke up, dazed and bleary-eyed, Rey seemed to realize something along the lines of _holy hell this is your mother_ and practically leapt away from him like he was poison marked up with skull and crossbones . 

“I came down here to see how your date went yesterday, and I find this! You have some explaining to do!”

“Mom, mom, look, I-“ God, it was too early for this, “I never wanted you to set me up. I never needed you to. When Chewie talked to you, he was trying to explain to you that it was okay if I dated, because I already am.”

Leia Organa, Princess of Alderaan, leader of the Rebel Alliance, Senator of the New Republic, had never looked more shocked than in that moment. Behind her, Han was trying not to laugh. It wasn’t helping the situation.

“So this is- you did-,”

“Kid, I don’t think I’ve ever seen your mother speechless,” said Han, rolling off the wall, “And I don’t like it.”

“Look, I just, I didn’t want to hurt your guys’ feelings, Okay, so I went with it and I went on the date, but,” Ben reached out for Rey’s hand, “I’m with Rey.”

“So this whole time you’ve been… dating behind our backs?” 

“This wasn’t how I wanted to introduce you two, mom,” Ben said, wishing his hair was brushed or his clothes weren’t wrinkled or something to act as armor, anything, really, when his parents were looking so immaculate as they stared him down (like they always seemed to).

Leia sighed, “It’s fine, Ben. It’s what we wanted, I guess, for you to be a real teenager, to date.”

Ben smiled, real and genuine, “Thanks, mom. I appreciate that.”

Leia smiled, too, and Han swung an arm around his wife, “So, are you gonna introduce us to the girl or not, son?”

“Oh!” Ben said, breaking into a smile, “Mom? Dad? I want you to meet Rey.”


	2. please keep hands and feet inside the vehicle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han says, "Keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times or suffer the consequences," at some point while they're between the stars of Hoth and Bespin and the rest of the galaxy - - han/leia sometime during ESB probably, based on a prompt from tumblr

With her hands pleasantly tucked into his pockets, they shuffled around the Millenium Falcon, comfortably tipsy in that warm sort of way that lingers in your head and settles in your stomach. 

“Leia,” Han whispered, leaning down to say it into her ear, bearing weight on her shoulders and back like a heavy-limbed bear hug, “How about I give you a tour of the Falcon?”

She’d seen the Falcon. Actually, she’d lived in the Falcon for the past four weeks while it inches along through space and their hyperspeed yelled at them about its need for repair. She knew most of the Falcon as if it was her own ship. But in their slightly-more-than-tipsy states in which Chewie was hiding beneath the floorboards or sleeping or something not chaperoning them as if they were first-graders like he often did, a tour of the Millenium Falcon sounded absolutely fantastic, so she giggled, pressed into his chest, “I wanna see it all,”

So he guided her around and she stepped on his toes and he dramatically pointed out every nook and cranny of his beloved ship as she paid attention and got distracted and aligned herself with that wonderful crook in his side where she just fit right in like she was a planet in his solar system and she just belonged. 

“Now, Princess, as we go into the next room, I feel I need to remind you to please keep all hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times, or you’ll suffer the consequences.”

“And what are the consequences?” Leia asked, her eyelids fluttering in what she hoped was a flirtatious manner. Han just grinned puffedly, winked, and ignored the question. 

“And this,” Han continued, declaring with the finality of a theater veteran on his stage, “Is my cockpit,” Han’s silhouette was outlined by the stars and the blinking lights of the controls, and he grinned smugly like the shadows themselves were worth millions of dollars.

“I like it in here, it’s nice,” Leia said, pulling herself back to him like they were connected by an unstoppable Super Magnet. Her head felt funny, and she almost forgot that she was a space commander to a rebel coalition, or the princess to a renegade planet destroyed by her enemies, or alone in the very same huge universe that she was trying to save

“It is,” Han said right back, “It is nice,” but he was looking right at her, drinking her in and moving closer and closer and closer, until their lips met and they melted and coalesced like their insides had been the keys to ancient unanswered alchemy the entire time.

She pulled away, not because she wanted to, or a little voice had warned her, but she was tipsy and warm and her head was spinning in a way that couldn’t have been good, right? So he let her sit in his pilot’s chair as he took Chewie’s seat. Han reached out and grabbed her hand as they sat there surrounded by the soft beeps and buzzing of a ship moving through space. They sat there for the rest of the night, fell asleep there actually, with their hands folded together and the stars laid out before their eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also write on my tumblr dammit-stark so feel free to head over there and say hello or even request something


	3. let her grab her goddamn crutches, han

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia is tough and independent and full of enough courage to color in the moon and the stars. Han got that message a long time ago, but well, sometimes a man forgets. All of his subsequent overprotectiveness is for the sake of his darn intransigent, lovey-dovey emotions (that Leia utterly adores).

The mechanized underbelly of the Millenium Falcon huffed out an inordinate amount of steam. The ship puffed like its motorized lungs couldn’t get enough air, racing beyond its physical capacity, kicking into a desperate anaerobic attempt to make it back to base, and it dipped scarily in the air above the sandy terrain.

“Only four more kilometers, Chew!” Han yelled, flipping triggers across the dashboard, checking data and beeps that detailed the dipping well-being of their ship, “Let’s get her home!” 

Chewie roared enthusiastically, and not because the blaster singe on his shoulder hurt, rather because the Falcon hurt. 

Slowly but surely, the Millenium Falcon limped into the rebel hangar, shaking tenuously as it tried to steady itself before landing.

A familiar voice came through the comm, staticky and sharp, the same voice that directed them home after just about every mission, “General Solo, welcome back. Prepare for landing on Dock P-147, please,”

“Roger that,” Han replied. They maneuvered the lumbering ship around carefully, so that she didn’t bump about the space and get hurt anymore than she already had.

The voice crackled and returned, rather unexpectedly, “General Solo? General Leia is approaching the landing. Stand by, she’s grabbing her crutches,” The air traffic controller crackled out and by the time the words registered in Han, he was scrambling to unbuckle.

“Did you hear that? Did he say crutches? Chew, you land her, I gotta-” Han jumped out of his seat, scrambled out of the cockpit, “Dammit, Leia what did you do to yourself while I was gone? I was gone for less than a week,”

Han was already pushing the ramp release of his precious damaged ship before Chewie even finished landing. He was plowing down the ramp even as the Falcon clambered against the ground. 

His ship wheezed but Han had bigger concerns, other precious beings to fuss over.

Leia was standing just about ten feet away, leaning heavily on her left crutch, smiling like mad, “Han! I mi-“

She was cut off by the fiercest fucking kiss of Han's (and her own) life. 

When he pulled away, his eyes were soft and warm but frantic, “Are you okay, Leia? What happened?” He kissed her again before she could get in her two cents. She would be laughing if she weren’t blushing so hard, face warming under the eyes of all of the rebel crewman.

“Han,” She managed, wrapping her hand around his elbow and trying to hide her shy,indulgent smile, “Not in front of everybody,”

But he didn’t care about kissing her in front of everybody, letting everybody know just how damn much he cared, letting her know. And well, if she really cared, she’d be pushing a lot harder on him, he knew she was certainly capable of more strength than a hand on his chest. In all honestly, flustered and worried Han was a nice change in pace, endearing in the anti-bolstering, sweet way that he didn't show too often, and she knew that he just needed to be anxious for her for a few minutes, so she pressed her free hand to his chest and teasingly stepped on his toes with her good foot and just let him be.

“I’m fine,” She reassured him, even as he wrapped a protective arm around her, as if he was trying to alleviate any pain that might still permeate her injury, “Han, I really am fine. We were doing a routine check of the new wing that’s being constructed and I tripped on some equipment at the site. The Med Droids patched me up just fine. It’s just a sprained ankle,”

Han pouted a little and kissed her again, on the cheek, the jaw, the neck, “I just want you to be okay,”

Chewie clambered down the ramp just then and roared as he approached them, clambering loudly down the ramp.

“Hi, Chewie,” Leia smiled, Han’s arm wrapped around her shoulders as he pulled her to his side, “How was the trip?”

Chewie roared expressively in the direction of the steaming Falcon, as if to say that a glance in the ship's direction told the whole story. It kind of did. Control panels hung off desolately like mere curtains in the summer wind and certain points across the metal were blackened by blasters shots.

“Well, I’m glad you two are back okay,” She said in consolation, tugging on Han just a little because he was back and she was happy. Chewie roared and it nearly sounded like a sort of Tsyriwook eye roll. Leia laughed, “Yes, Chewie, I’m glad the Falcon made it back, too.”


	4. he speaks from between the stars, covered in dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompted by anon on tumblr: “I dare you to do an old han/leia ghost/living person au where ben killed han but he’s still there bickering in Leia’s vicinity forever”

She isn’t sure if it’s Luke’s doing or the Force’s or because it was their son that caused his end or just the fact that it’s Han who had a habit of persevering even when she hoped he wouldn’t, but sometimes she still swears she hears his voice. 

Usually it’s nothing more than a quip or a witty remark, as if he were right there by her side, as if their son never went rogue and her husband never ran off in shame. 

When she trips in the hallway on a crooked floor panel, the loyal rebellion-fighters all around her look to their feet as if they had no idea their childhood hero was a secret clutz. But Leia swears she hears Han in her ear with a snort and a low chuckle, “Graceful there, aren’t you, Princess?” But it can’t be, because he’s long gone. 

When it’s down to her to make the call in command, to save the day when wreaking havoc on their entire purpose is at stake, where the wrong decision would put them back months- maybe even years- in hard work, she very nearly makes the wrong choice. In the end, they take down an entire Imperial base. She almost made the wrong call, but she didn’t. When Command celebrate around the holotech and her fellow generals pat her on the back and exult her tactical heroics once again, she swears that she hears Han sigh in relief in her ear, “Nice save, your holy one.” (Which doesn’t even make sense because she has nothing to do with holiness, but that’s exactly why Han would make such a comment.)

She hates it a little bit, because it sounds just like Han, feels like his breath on her neck, and his elbow playfully jabbing her in the side. She knows, however, that it can’t be him. Because Han is long gone. 

But sometimes, when she feels the weight of the grief of losing Han at her son’s hand and losing Ben to Kylo Ren and Snoke and the nefarious lure of the Sith, she lets the tears fall and she swears, absolutely swears, that she feels a hand on her shoulder, on her back, an arm wrapping around her and pulling her close just like he used to. She’ll cry because she may be Princess Leia, hero of the rebellion, but she isn’t perfect and despite all of her heroics it all still _hurts_ without him.

Sometimes in the morning she swears, absolutely to her dying day swears, that she hears his voice in her ear saying, “Time to get up, your highness.” And she gets up for another day to the sound of his humming trapped between her ears. 


	5. someone's gotta do it- doesn't mean it ends well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> designated driver au but it's in SPACE!

Luke was just buckling himself into Han’s pilot’s chair when the giggles started from down the corridor and in the lounge. Luke groaned. The trio of drunken heroes sounded like little girls at a sleepover that were supposed to be asleep, their voices soft and quiet yet simultaneously inadvertently loud. 

“ _Dammit_ ,” Luke muttered and clambered out of the cockpit. 

“What are you guys doing in here? Shouldn’t you be- _no, han, no_.”

They turned and looked at Luke all at once, as if in slow motion with those giddy little grins on their faces. Luke just about wanted to die. Sure, he had a multi-million unit bounty on his head, but succumbing to that would certainly be better than his current situation, right?

“Luke!” Leia cheered, a hiccup falling out from somewhere in the back of her throat, “Come sit with us! We missed you!”

“You missed me within the three minutes it took me to get from hangar to the cockpit?” 

“ _Mmhmmmmm_ ,”

Leia leaned tiredly against the wall of the kitchenette, curled up on top of the countertop in one small corner, like a cat who was dead to the world except for the small, blissful smile on her lips. 

Squished into the space next to her was the area that Chewbacca was trying to… _bake at_? His furry hands moved frantically in bowls as he made something that resembled some weird ethnic wookie bread of some sort. Small, sad, wookie growls slipped past his lips as he added and mixed and pressed together. 

Han lay a few feet away from the other two, looking even worse for the wear than his cohorts, sprawled haphazardly across the floor, limbs spider webbing across the cold metal panels of the floor without a care in the world. 

“Kid, you better not wreck my ship!” Han slurred, face to the ground, “The whole time we’ve been in the air, she’s been rockin’.”

“Han,” Luke said, trying his damnedest not to laugh at the absurdity of their conditions, “We’re still grounded,”

“Then why is the ceiling moving, huh?” 

Luke stared at Han as his eyes distractedly fluttered open and closed. Luke could physically see the moment that Han realized the rotating ceiling was an alcohol induced trick of the mind, “ _Oh_.”

“You guys need to buckle in,” Luke laughed

Han mumbled something about the disrespect of his property, Chewie whisked nominally faster, and Leia looked like she was just about to fall asleep right where she sat, but none of them moved to buckle, not an inch. It was looking like Luke was in store for a _fun_ night. 

Luke managed to manhandle Han into at least an upright position, already out of breath, “Help me out a little here, Han, c’mon,”

The legendary Han Solo just… hiccuped impotently. 

Luke continued to regret just about all of his life decisions for bringing him to this moment. 

“Chewie, you can finish your bread once we’re in the air. Why don’t you get into a seat?”

Now, Luke’s Shyriiwook wasn’t perfect but he was pretty sure that Chewie’s angry growl roughly translated to _“It’s a traditional desert, not bread- I do what I want, humanoid scum.”_ Luke wasn’t sure if the ‘humanoid scum’ part was the product of Luke’s lack of a grip on the language or a deep-seeded resentment on Chewie’s part. He sincerely hoped that it was the former. 

“What about you, Leia? Will you buckle in? For safety?”

Leia snored. 

“C‘mon, Chewie, please help me out? Maybe take a seat?”

Chewbacca growled irritably, as if to say “ _back off, bitch_ ,” or you know, the Shyriiwook equivalent of such a sentiment. Luke backed off, went back to try Leia again. 

She had completely dozed off, head against the peeling panel wall. Luke wrapped an arm around her and carefully lifted her off the counter. He was lucky all three of his friends were drunk to the point where they had no idea what was going on when he nearly dropped Leia or that he stumbled and leaned one of his shoulders against the wall when he struggled to carry her dead weight.

In Luke’s defense, moisture farming had never been particularly physically demanding. 

“There,” Luke stepped away proudly, after taking much too long to get the princess buckled in, “Now for the other two.”

Han looked to be in even worse shape. He had flopped back into his previous position, haphazard and buzzing without his inhibitions. 

“Han?” Luke shook the pilot’s shoulder, “Leia is all buckled in. Do you want to take a seat now?”

Han looked up and his eyes got wide open, as if he’d been woken from a deep sleep with a shot of adrenaline right in the veins. He looked around spotted Leia, and his brows furrowed, “ _‘Kay_ ,” He said and clambered off to the seat beside Leia. Her head immediately rolled onto his shoulder, and he rested his on top of hers and they drifted off to sleep right like that. 

Two down only one to go. 

It took much too long to get the seven foot woolly mammoth buckled safely into a seat for takeoff, but Luke managed it eventually.

“Good,” He said, surveying his buckled-down group of drowsy toddlers, “Now you three stay here I’ve gotta-“ Luke backed into the direction of the cockpit, “ _Finally_.”

The Falcon lifted off without issue. They got clearance from the local air authorities and made it all the way out into intergalactic territory before the problems arose. 

A low voice crackled over the Falcon’s comm, seemingly out of nowhere, “This is TI-187, you’ve entered Imperial territory. Identify yourself.”

Luke cursed. Being up against a fleet of TIE fighters on his own in a strange ship? No good. 

He flicked hopelessly at buttons until a little red light appeared next to the speaker, “Um, hi, I’m just, um, passing through?”

“Identify yourself, or we will take action,”

_Where was that hyperspeed Han was always bragging about..._

“Um, give me one minute,” 

“This is your last warning,”

Luke was pretty sure that the biggest toggle was the hyperspeed. Most likely. Probably. Hopefully. 

“Prepare for attack.”

Screw it. Luke jammed on the switch, no holds barred and- zoom.

Luke collapsed into the pilot’s seat as soon as he was at least two clicks away from the TIE fleet. Han came hobbling in a few minutes later, leaning heavily against the Falcon’s dingy walls. 

“You better not be breakin’ m’ ship,”

It was probably supposed to sound like a threat, but Han was wobbling like a marble out at sea and his eyes were weighing heavily and he just looked…well, drunk.

“I’m _not_ going to be the designated driver next time,” Luke promised as Han collapsed into Chewie’s seat and looked like he was going to throw up. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” Han said as he drifted back to sleep in the copilot’s chair.


	6. she stands like a hurricane, matronly and begging for battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pregnant leia is upset at Han Solo for being an inconsiderate douche by doing something risky and sure she’s a renowned and prominent general and leader and hero and all that but she is NOT above standing in the middle of the base and SCREAMING at this bitch in her pajamas being her very pregnant self and nobody can do a damn thing

“HAN. FUCKING. SOLO. I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU ARENT RIGHT FUCKING HERE IN THE NEXT THIRTY SECONDS, HELL WILL RAIN DOWN.”

Leia’s screams can be heard rattling through the abyss of metal-lined rebellion hallways as she stands at the epicenter of the rebellion’s current working base, “I am not afraid to withhold many things from you that you do not want to be withheld, Han Solo.” The echoes of inferior rebels scrambling in their quarters behind the walls surrounding Leia, eager to overhear their favorite general and her pilot’s current skirmish, means nothing to her, not now at least. 

_One second. Two. Three. Four._ Leia is so ready to absolutely murder Han. So ready. She feels like she’s about to implode in upon herself, enraged. Han could be on the complete opposite side of the base, completely ignorant of Leia’s rage, and it wouldn’t defer his punishment any. She knew that word would get to him no matter what. 

_Sixteen seconds. Seventeen. Eighteen seconds._ He was cutting it close. Leia continues to seethe, foot tapping perpetually against the cold metal floor beneath her slippers.

If anybody had walked in on this scene, it would’ve been quite the sight: the infamous leader of the rebel coalition, very, _very_ pregnant and wearing the most matronly pajamas ever to exist- a pink floral night gown that’s just about the only clothes that she can comfortably wear anymore, but nobody walks in because General Organa’s rage can be heard all across the compound and not a soul would dare step before her hormonal fury. Sure, the rebellion’s Pilots were known for being more ballsy than most, willing to commit stunts of death-defying degrees, but not even a pilot would walk before pregnant General Leia’s tantrum. Hell, they wouldn’t dare if she wasn’t pregnant. Her stubbornness was known to be otherworldly. 

_Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. Twenty-ni-_ , “I’m here, I’m here!” Han pants as he rounds a metal-paneled corner, skidding against the floor like a character from a road runner cartoon, “I’m here, Leia!”

She stood there in the middle of the hallway, glaring bullets at her husband, arms crossed sternly across her chest just above her bulging pregnant belly and feet firmly planted shoulder width apart in her homely version of a battle stance. Han is still panting like a dog caught on fire, at a loss for breath. He must have run all the way from the other side of the compound. Leia glares at him, unamused. 

“There’s something wrong with you, Han Solo,” She says, eyes dark in warning, “Something _seriously_ wrong.”

“I’m sorry, Leia,” Han says, hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath, “I really, really am.”

She takes two large steps his way and shoves him, sends him staggering until he reaches out and steadies himself on a metal wall, “ _Leia_!” He gasps, his voice brandishing a scolding sword. 

“No, you don’t get to _Leia_ me, Han Solo. You were acting like… like an _idiot_ out there! You scared me half to death!”

“I was only doing-,” Han finally seems to catch his breath, “-only doing my job, princess.”

The correctness of his statement is not lost on her. That’s not to say that she cared much for it. 

“Shut up, Han,” She says, grabbing him by the back of his shirt, “You could have fucking _died_.”

“I know, Princess,” He said, head bowed, eyes on hers, “I told you, I’m really sorry.”

“That’s not good enough,” She dropped his shirt from her hand, reverted back to crossing her arms across her chest, her bottom lip sticking out in an angry pout. He hated it when she did that, looked endearing even during her most belligerent times. 

He makes a sweet face and damn him, she melts a little, her fists loosen at her sides just a little itty bit, “I’m really, really sorry.”

She kicks at the toe of his boot half-heartedly, moves her hands to his shoulders because now she just needs to _touch him_ as she fights off tears, “Still not good enough,” She mutters under her breath, but he still hears it. 

Han pressed a soft kiss to her temple, down her cheek, her jawline, landing one on the pressure point right behind her ear, the one that holds the stress of a general leading the best in an intergalactic space war against the worst. Her fingers tighten around his shirt, “I promise I’ll make it up to you,” He says, whispers really, “And I won’t do any more idiotic things unless I really, really have to.”

Leia scoffs, fights off tears, and pulls him close, “You better, fucker.”

Han huffs out a laugh against her hair, “As you wish, my general,” They stand together for a long time, hold each other tight amid the promises of love among war, “We should go to sleep soon,” He whispers into her ear, “Staying up this late can’t be good for the baby.”

“Just one more minute,” She grips his shirt, ensures her tears have evaporated into the fabric, and shakes her head, “Okay, we can go to bed.”

They walk back to their quarters together, leaving a metal-lined hallway brimming with curious busy bodies in their wake. Leia knows that the underlings are there, watching after her and her husband in disbelief, but she couldn’t care less.

Han opens the door to their quarters and she looks up at him, grins, “You know I’m still mad at you, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” He says, slinging an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her temple, “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”


	7. a million and one thank yous, from zero to one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “you caught some guy trying to drug my drink at the bar so u punched him and now we’re at my place where i’m cleaning the blood off your face and endlessly thanking you” au ---han/leia sometime between new hope and empire probably, at a cantina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: oc tries to drug leia so if that's a trigger or makes you uncomfortable please stay away from this chapter

Leia wasn’t sure when the whole cantina thing started, probably sometime around the time that the entire luke/han/leia ‘friendship’ thing started, actually. Apparently Luke had a strange affinity for cantinas and apparently Han and Leia were overly indulgent friends. Who knew?

But Luke wasn’t here now. Han and Leia both were, but Luke wasn’t. No, Luke was off on some faraway planet in the Outer Rim training to be one of the greatest minds of their generation. Whatever. No big deal. They were fine with getting drunk right where they were, no consequences, no jedi-ness looming over them. Whatever. 

Leia could feel herself getting heavier, her head buzzing with the lack of inhibition, high off a mission done well, and intoxicated on the alcohol.

“Hi,” A voice came from over her shoulder, “My name is Gargaran. Can I buy you a drink?”

Leia looked at him. Gargaran was humanoid, looked nice enough, cute even, probably nicer than Han (who was a no-good womanizing criminal, obviously, that’s why he was flirting with the purplish girl across the bar instead of talking to her, not that Leia cared at all, no), so she smiled and told him her order.

“I like a woman that knows how to order,” And he gestured toward the barkeep. 

They talked for awhile after that, well, more flirted than talked. He had no idea who she was. He had no idea that she helped command the rebel alliance, no idea that she was princess of a peoples shot straight out of the sky, no idea she’d been kidnapped by Darth Vader, no idea that she had controversially fired that high-ranking pilot last week for insubordination. She was just a girl in a bar, and it felt good.

“Another drink?” Gargaran asked with a guileless smirk. Leia just smiled and nodded as his fingers wrapped softly around her elbow and he slid a drink across the table toward her. 

Leia was lifting the glass up to her lips when all hell decided to break loose, “Don’t drink that, your highness,” Han said from behind her, his voice low and dark as he stared daggers at Gargaran. Leia hadn’t even noticed him standing there. 

“Wha-“

Next thing that Leia knew, Han was punching Gargaran- hard. 

“Han! What are you-”

“This no-good creep put something in your drink, Leia,” Han growled, and… oh.

The blood was just starting to gush from Gargaran’s nose when the brawling started. Fantastic.

Gargaran got a few hits in, but Han had been working with the Alliance training corps and had learned some new tricks that didn’t come from the streets or bar brawls or intergalactic spaceship battles for that matter, so he had the upper hand. 

By the end of it, Gargaran’s nose was gushing harder than ever (it was, in all likelihood, broken), his rib was probably broken or badly bruised based on the way he clutched at his abdomen and he had the beginning of a very painful-looking black eye. There was a small lesion on Han’s cheekbone and his side had a vaguely purpling bruise, but he was otherwise completely fine. Some of Gargaran’s nose bleed had dripped onto Han’s shirt, but Han wasn’t squeamish at the sight of blood, it didn’t bother him one bit.

Leia wrapped an arm around Han’s waist, as if he needed support, and she tried to herald him out of the cantina. They had already caused such a scene, they were rebels on the run, and there was only so much attention they could risk before somebody recognized them. 

Han willingly leaned into Leia’s touch, but before she was able to tug him out of the cantina, he made sure to spit at Gargaran, even as he cowered on the ground and groaned, “Don’t disrespect a woman like that ever again, or I’ll hunt you down myself and do a whole lot worse than kick you around a little,”

Leia pulled him away, a little dazed, a lot surprised. Neither of them said a word on the way back to the Falcon. She just kept her arm tight around his waist, his big arm slung around her shoulders, and carefully guided him through the shadowed streets of Akiva.

They managed to make it up the ramp and into the Falcon without Imperial interference. Chewie was still out and about somewhere in the city when they boarded, so Leia lead Han into the small kitchen area. Han sat up on a counter as Leia wet a towel.

“Thank you,” Leia said quietly, so, so quietly, as she dabbed the cloth to his cheekbone.

Han hissed at the burn of the contact with his injury, “Of course, princess,” 

Silence ate them up as Leia dabbed carefully at Han’s jaw.

“Y’know,” She said, trying to sound as casual as she could, “I was surprised you had noticed him. You looked quite enamored by your purple friend.”

Han tensed up and pulled away, frowning, “Are you kidding me? Is that what this is about?”

Leia tried to look as innocent as she possibly could, but the alcohol was still so achingly present in her bloodstream, she could feel it flow from her brain and into her wrists as she tried to clean off the blood from Han’s shirt. 

“Leia, I may have been on the other side of the room, but you were the only person I was watching. You gotta believe me.”

Leia didn’t say anything, but it was hard to hide that small smirk, “Thank you, Han.”

“He couldn’t have paid me to stop me from stopping him, your worship. Trust me.”

“Thank you, Han,” She said again, more open and real and genuine the second time. So much could have gone wrong if Han hadn’t been there, so much would have changed, and that heavy lightness in her chest fluttered as Leia gripped the towel a little tighter, “Thank you,”


End file.
